Heart of Stone
by Frigonfic
Summary: Hannah has always been known as the unfeeling, emotionless victor. But when her past catches up with her, Hannah struggles keep her emotions in check while surviving the brutal arena of the Hunger Games. Set in Catching Fire - Mockingjay.
1. A Machine

**Hi everybody! Well, this is my first story on , so please bear with me. Hopefully the story will progress well. **

**So this chapter is set in Katniss' point of view, but I promise to you that the next chapter will be in Hannah's point of view. This is just so you sort of know more about Hannah and her Games from an outsider's point of view.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for Hannah. Everybody else belongs to the wonderful Suzanne Collins. **

"She's the one you have to watch out for."

That was what Effie Trinket told me and Peeta when we were looking at the reapings of the 75th Hunger Games, the Third Quell. Effie was talking about the girl from District 5, the one who just walked up to the platform on the tape.

"Oh no." Effie moaned. "It's Hannah."

"What's wrong with her?" Peeta asked. "She looks rather small."

"Hannah Salven," Haymitch appeared at the door. "Should not be judged by how she looks."

"She's a robot." Effie said, eyes popping open. "She has to be."

"Not necessarily." Haymitch sat down next to us.

I, for one, didn't care. It was just another victor. Another bloodthirsty person who has played these Games. Another contender that could take away my life in a matter of days. Another way for me to end my life.

I tried not to think about the ways I could die in a few days and focused on watching the tape.

We watched that Game on the train to the Capitol. It was no different than the other Games we've watched – ruthless, bloody, and brutal. However, Hannah, the victor, added another quality to it – cunning. The victors are often monsters – hunting the other contenders like animals. But Hannah's way of hunting reminded me of Gale – the way they both use traps. However, Hannah's traps were much more brutal than Gale's ever will be.

At the first glance, she seemed normal enough – a little exquisite because of her eyes. But after watching her tape of the Games she won, I'm sure no one in Panem thought the same thing again. She looked a little taller than I was, her legs making up most of her height. They were long and slender, but muscular and strong. She could easily run a mile and escape. She had long, chocolate brown hair that was tied in a simple ponytail that trailed down her back. She had the same, thin face as the rest of District 5, but the one thing that struck people's attention was her eyes.

They were cat eyes – there's no other way to describe them. Yellow and piercing, they looked like the exact eyes you would see in a cat, down to the last detail. The irises were an almost glowing yellow, and the black pupils were thin and sharp, like a real cat. The only thing that seemed slightly human about them was that the pupils were slightly larger than a real cat's.

Haymitch explained that Hannah used to have normal blue eyes until she was put into an experiment than went horribly wrong. District 5 was the district of science – different from District 3's Electronics & Technology and District 6's Medicine and Health. Haymitch said that Hannah was put into the experiment, thinking she'd be okay – and leaving with the eyes of a cat. He didn't have any details as to what the experiment was supposed to be or how she felt about it.

She began as just another contestant – slightly memorable due to her eyes – but nevertheless just another background player who would die in the beginning. She never emoted any feelings – her responses in her interview short and monotonous, and her face on screen always straight.

In the Arena, everyone underestimated her. They all thought she was just another contestant that was trying to keep a straight face underneath a breaking body – but they all thought wrong. Maybe it was just that group of kids, or maybe it was just the aura she gave off, but everyone forgot she was from _District 5. _The smartest District there was, easily rivaling District 3. Hannah's brain was full of cunning plans, sly schemes, and math, formulas, and calculations to kill each and every one of them one by one.

She didn't stay in the Cornucopia for long. With her long, athletic legs, she reached the Cornucopia before anyone did, and she only grabbed a single knife before dashing away. The Arena for that year was a large swamp. There were a few clusters of trees at the edge of the arena that could be called a forest, but overall, the arena was murky waters. The Gamemakers made that year's arena harder to hide in than usual.

While everyone headed towards the forest for safety, Hannah stayed in the swamp. The trees were five times taller than a house, growing out of calf-deep muddy water. The trees were twisted and gnarled, and provided no protection or shelter at all. Everyone, including me, thought Hannah was extremely stupid for staying there.

Hannah, using the single knife she brought from the Cornucopia, hacked away at a rather large tree, one of the largest in the whole arena. The tree was hollow – just as she suspected, or rather, knew. She carved out an entrance that looked like an oversized squirrel hole in the tree in the perfect place – not to high but not too low. The hole was small, but large enough for her to slip through. She carved a few peepholes as well, all around the tree, and even made several emergency exits. That became her hideout for the Games.

She used the same tactic as FoxFace – or rather, FoxFace used the same tactic as her. She stole food from the other contestants, not too much to arouse suspicions, but enough for her to get by on. Quick and soundless, she reminded me of Rue from the way she hid in the trees, her eyes easily mistaken for another wild animal. In one second, the trees were still. In the next, as quick and silent as the wind, there were two unmistakable yellow orbs staring out of the tree. In a flash, the person's food was gone, and so were the eyes.

On the first few days, she explored the whole arena – carefully noting any hiding spots and trails, but the Capitol barely showed this, only showing the brutal fight against everyone else. Once I was sure she had the whole place memorized and mapped out, she would sneak up and listen to everyone's plans – especially the Career's plans. And she would foil every single one of them. Slowly killing each and every one of the Career districts, in those quick seconds when their guards were down, and taking down the competition. The Careers were afraid to hunt, in fear of the traps that Hannah set around the area – one wrong step and a knife would be swinging towards your heart before you even realize it. They were creative traps, some quick and painless, others used to scare and toy the victim until they wished they were dead.

The strangest thing though, was that Hannah would let all of the weaker players stay alive. Some she would leave to die, like the starving, but she would keep the other non-Career Districts from dying. She didn't let the Careers kill the other Districts, but often the tables were turned and she would kill the Careers themselves, each using a carefully crafted out plan.

The Capitol did not like what she was doing. They did not like the fact that a lowly District _girl _was killing off the favorites one by one, each gruesome yet clever. They had to get rid of her.

One night, when there was only around six or seven left, the Capitol sent mutated alligators after her. However, through her tiny holes in her tree, she saw the alligators before they reached her. She darted out into the forest. The next part was the part in which the Capitol hated the most – the part where she used the monsters that the Capitol sent to kill her to kill the other tributes. Using the thing that should've caused the end of her existence to kill everybody else – the exact reason why the Capitol sent them to her in the first place – is what angered the Capitol to oblivion.

She led the alligators to any tributes she could find, hiding out in the trees while she watched the alligators kill her competition. After the gruesome and bloody feast, there were only a handful of tributes left – including the small number of Careers. Hannah knew where everybody was, and knew that she could lead all of the alligators to everybody's death, but instead, she killed every single alligator – except for one. No one is quite sure what happened next since a huge fight erupted amongst the remaining Careers and the District 7 girl, and they switched the cameras to watch Girl 7's bloody end.

They didn't show Hannah again for the rest of the day.

In the next few days, Hannah killed one of the two remaining Careers, leaving the big burly Career that everybody wanted – and knew – would win. The last Career boy killed the remaining tributes, unable to find Hannah. He was furious, of course. Hannah had killed his District partner, his companion, and he was angry enough to murder. Everybody was on their seats to see the result – Hannah's definite bloody end. Everyone thought she was so smart in the beginning, so clever, until she made the fatal mistake of killing the Career girl instead of the big burly Career boy when she had the chance. Sure, she had cut him badly on the arm, but what difference does it make when he is ready to hunt?

The two found each other in the swamp, the Capitol eager to see the bloodbath that was sure to come. It was terrifying to watch this strong boy, a long deadly knife in hand, ready to kill a skinny scrawny girl whose knife wasn't even in her hand anymore. She must've lost it, or broke it. She had no chance of winning. She was accepting her death, and ready to be brutally killed by this boy.

The boy was ready, standing there, panting from the long run he just made. He was about to charge, positioning his knife so that it would puncture her right in the heart. He could see her red blood in his hands. He could taste the victory on his lips. He could almost smell her fear.

But he was wrong.

Just as he was about to run, the last mutation alligator jumped right out of the water, jaws ready and open, teeth deadly and long. The boy didn't see it coming. Nobody did. The alligator snapped his neck, and the body fell into the swamp, the red quickly staining the water.

After a moment of silent shock, the people heard the voice announcing Hannah's win. But nobody could believe it. I couldn't believe it. Hannah was still standing in the same spot as she was when the boy was ready to kill her. The alligator came up to her – and to everybody's surprise for the second time, nuzzled her leg as fondly as an alligator could.

_How is it possible? _The alligator, a day ago, had tried killing her. A day ago, the alligator was hungry for her blood. Today, it was nuzzling her like a faithful pet. _What did she do?_

On closer inspection, the alligator was bigger than it was before, but more streamlined. The spikes were smaller, no longer creating ripples in the water. The teeth were bigger, much bigger. But the one thing that everybody noticed first was its eyes – like a cat's. No longer the usual greenish-brown sharp, deadly eyes of a normal alligator, but the bright yellow sharp blade of a cat's - just like Hannah's. Everything about those eyes were clearing stating _The alligator belongs to me. _

But the worst thing was that the whole time, Hannah's face had no emotion. She showed no pity or mercy when she was killing the lower districts, or anger and hatred when the Careers squirmed underneath her traps. There was no joy or pleasure when she killed anyone. Even in hunger and exhaustion, her face kept the same normal, slightly bored face. She didn't have a smirk or mischievous smile when she thought of a plan or put in into action. Hannah didn't collapse with relief or happiness when she won, only standing in the bloodied water. It was unnerving, her expressionless face. It bothered me. Hannah did seem to be a robot – quick, witty, and smart – but also unfeeling. It was like killing people didn't matter to her anymore – like it was just another daily routine.

"Wow." Peeta whispered, after watching Hannah's tape.

"Wow indeed." Haymitch smirked. "Believe it. It was all her. You really have to watch out for her in the Games."

"Everyone really thought she was a machine. She just can't be human. Killing all of those kids, planning out each and every one of their deaths like it was nothing but eating breakfast – with no expression, nothing at all. It's even worse than watching someone enjoying killing someone else." Effie shuddered.

"We were all so sure it was a scam pulled by District 5, that she was a machine, that they actually got her _tested._" Effie said, her face reading shock. "They tested her blood, her DNA, everything. And she's completely human! I can't believe it."

We moved on and continued to watch other victor's Games, switching tapes. I took the tape out, the image of Hannah's expressionless face disappearing.

She was a machine, that's for sure.

A man killing machine.

**So, that's it for today!**

**Hope you guys all like it and are planning to stick around to see how this progresses…**

**Reviews would be very much appreciated!**


	2. The Capitol

**So sorry for the long gap between the posts D:**

**I promise to post more often. And I promise to fulfill that promise.**

**Anyways, this chapter is in Hannah's point of view, and so will all of the following chapters. Unless I say so xP**

**Hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for Hannah. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins. **

I sat on the train going towards the Capitol. I was called for the reaping again at the 75th Hunger Games, which was not surprising. There were only a handful of victors in District 5, and even less female victors. Plus, I wasn't exactly a favorite in District 5, so there were no volunteers.

What can I say about it? Is there anything worse than going back to the place where you know you committed a crime, watched people die, and had your life on the line? There's not much to say except _it sucks. _But then again, nothing in the Capitol is exactly fair. Of course the Capitol would do something as terrible as making us watch our children kill each other – or, if you were in that age range, watch your friends kill others – and eventually, maybe you, too. But this was a whole new level of sick. Promising the people who killed to live, who were scarred for life from what they made us do, the immunity from returning to that hellhole, and then deciding a few years later, _screw it, let's just throw that promise out the window and make them kill each other. Again. _

I watched the reapings again. Watched as some of the biggest, most terrifying people in all of Panem step up to go back to the arena, now ten times more deadly than they were the first time. Watched as some people, old, weakened, and just plain given up, have to go back to the place that made them lose all of their hope again. Watched as the two faces of all of Panem's only hope for freedom go up to the podium and announce that they would be practically going to die in front of all of them.

Our only chance for freedom. Our only hope for a new world. And I could kill them. The thought sickened me. I vowed to myself that I would rather die myself than let the hope of people everywhere die. Panem was getting restless. A rebellion was going to bloom. And Katniss and Peeta were going to lead it. And I was going to make sure it did, even if it cost me my life.

A drunken Haymitch is apparently, a very good source of information.

I said my short goodbyes. I tried not to cry as I thought bitterly, how I was going to leave my home, my loved one (no plural here, after the alligator stunt I pulled in my own Games, there was pretty much no one left to love), the one place I actually feel like I belonged. I said goodbye for the last time, and then boarded the train to my death.

I reviewed my strategy again. Maybe hiding and setting up traps could get me a day now. Maybe stealing food will be enough to help me get by.

Yeah, and maybe Snow will cancel the Games once and for all.

Hiding might be okay, when running away. But setting up traps was a big no. The tributes are all victors, and have years of noticing everything, being weary of every single detail. They would notice a trap in a split second. It would be a waste of time and energy to set up one. Stealing food was not an option either, since they were bound to notice me.

Hiding and trapping and being cunning isn't going to cut it this time. Yes, you do need some smarts and some camouflage skills, but you can't depend on those only this time around. It would be my downfall if I did. If I thought that I could escape this time with nothing but pure cunning and stealing I would be signing my death contract – a death that would be much sooner than I hoped it would be. I had to have strength and power as well, or at least enough to fend myself off before I run away.

I looked down at my skinny arms, and looked at them doubtfully. They had some sort of muscle in them, but definitely not as toned as the other tributes. I could kill a little kid, for sure. They had no experience and did not require too much power. But these people are full-grown adults, and muscle will be involved. If I was caught without a weapon, or if another tribute broke my weapon, I might as well just lie down and let them kill me. Without any weapons, I was hopeless. I was terrible with hand-to-hand combat. And I didn't exactly succeed in any particular weapon either – I was quite mediocre for all of them.

In other words, I was completely and utterly doomed.

The train started to slow down, nearing the Capitol. The Capitol was the same as when I was there last year for mentoring – shiny, clean, and beautiful. I closed my eyes and imagined it bloodstained and ruined. The thought made me smile slightly.

Before I left the train, I looked in the mirror, to make sure I didn't have any absolutely mortifying stains on my face or anything. There were no stains. But there were my stupid, ugly, goddamned _eyes _that I hated _so much. _Maybe it's stupid to be self-conscious or insecure when you're in a world where children kill each other, but the insults and the bullying is the same. The stares never change. It's hard to want so badly to just fit in, to blend in the background and hope that the Captiol will just forget about you, to just _be normal, _and then have the one thing that marks you as a freak. It breaks you down. It ruins you.

I tried not to care. I put on my straight face, my 'mask'. I walked out of the train coolly, not waiting for the District 5 male tribute. A bunch of Capitol people pointed at me, stared at me, took pictures, and tried to make me show some expression. It was their favorite game – 'Let's-see-who-can-make-Hannah-crack-first", and it was a close runner up to "Let's-fawn-over-Finnick-Odair-like-he's-some-sort-of-god" – which, in case you were wondering, both games I hate.

I scoffed in my head. They can yell and swear all they want, but they forget that I can kill them all. I'll toy with them all before their deaths, just like a real cat, and then we'll see what they're yelling then.

My prep team led me towards the building where I was staying. They showed me my room, and then it was straight to hair and makeup for the cameras. The lights, the people, their weird accents, made me remember why I hated visiting the Capitol (which didn't need much reminding), which is having to keep a straight face the whole time. I wasn't going to smile and laugh like Finnick Odair – what was there to smile about? I wasn't going to be that angry victor like Johanna Mason – not that I wasn't angry. I'm not going to give the Capitol the satisfaction of knowing that I am bloody furious at them, or the satisfaction of them knowing that they changed me into some of sort smiling, charming person that I'm not. I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of anything. So I keep my straight face – robot Hannah.

I stood like a breathing mannequin as my prep team tortured me in ways that Snow has never even though of. A full body scrub is probably more effective than electrocution or whipping. My prep team pulled, yanked, and tugged until they thought I was beautiful. They showed me my reflection when they were done, hours later after dunking and cleaning.

The girl staring back at me had golden hair when the sun hit it, cherry red lips, pale blemish-free skin, perfectly arched eyebrows, clean nails, and not a speck of dirt on her. But the worst thing about this girl was that she had _blue eyes. _Beautifully perfect, almond shaped azure blue eyes that shone like the sun. That was not me. The girl that had blue eyes died a long time ago. Or so I thought, as I stared at my reflection. I nodded my fake approval to my prep team, and they happily skittered away, finally away from me.

I stood there until my designer came in. He was to design my outfit for tonight, when all the tributes come out of their carriages to be introduced to the Capitol. He mumbled to himself, inspecting my body, and jotted down notes as I stood there, waiting for him to finish.

I resisted sighing as we walked over to the Remake Centre, where the tributes would stay before they were presented to the Capitol in their carriages. Thankfully, my designer didn't make me wear anything too stupid. I was wearing the simple 'scientist' outfit with the white lab coat, big goggles, and black gloves. The only thing completely off about the outfit was that scientist's did not wear black stilettos in the lab, their lab coats weren't supposed to be that short, they had pants and clothing underneath the coat, and they did not wear a massive amount of black makeup on their face. The black makeup made it look like my face was burnt to a crisp, the black covering my eyes. I looked like a raccoon, in my opinion. My designer made me wear a black belt filled with hissing chemicals. Well, I inspected it further, and it's not real chemicals of course. It was fake colored bubbling water. It hissed and steamed around my waist, producing a large amount of smoke. I rolled my eyes secretly. The designer was only trying to copy Katniss and Peeta's costume last year with their flaming costume.

We reached the Remake Centre, and I could see tributes – or rather, victors – everywhere. It chilled me, knowing that I knew these people, that every one of them had at least killed two people. Not including Peeta. It was a room full of murderers – that's who we really are. One these people in this room is going to take away your life in a matter of a few days. I shuddered a little, knowing that I would be taking away the lives of a few of these people without hesitation. Even though I wasn't best friends with anyone, I knew it would be harder for me to kill these people, not only because they were experienced, but because I knew them.

"Hey! Cheshire!" I heard a familiar call. Instantly, I made sure my straight face was on. I ignored the call. Do not come over, do not come over, do not come over, I prayed silently in my head. But clearly, whoever was up there was not caring at all, which was to be expected after being reaped.

Finnick Odair came bouncing over in his ridiculous costume, which was even more ridiculous than mine – a fishing rope knotted intricately and hanging loosely around his waist. The Capitol was clearly trying to show him off, and it was clearly working. I could almost hear the swoons of the girls in the Capitol, and they haven't even seen him yet.

"Cheshire, don't ignore me." I heard him pout beside me.

I hated Finnick Odair with a passion. It started on my very first Capitol party that I was forced to go to. I was around sixteen or seventeen then, and I was extremely nervous on the inside. I had heard stories, and I tried not to hyperventilate every time someone came close to me. Anyways, Finnick comes up to me and starts talking to me, drink in hand. He kept on talking with that slight drawl in his voice, kept asking too many questions, kept looking at me too often. He never called me Hannah, only 'Cheshire', 'Cat', and any other variations. His questions were repeated and became annoying. His face plastered everywhere became irritating. Soon, everything just became annoying, and I tend to keep my distance from annoying people.

I turned towards him. "Is there something you want?" I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my face straight. He is probably the one person in the whole entire world that set me off on edge just by saying 'Hello.'

"Cheshire!" Finnick exclaimed. "What happened to your eyes?"

"I prefer you called me Hannah." I said tonelessly.

Finnick ignored my comment. "You should tell your designers to leave your eyes alone, Cheshire. Without your eyes, you're not the Cheshire Cat any more!"

I restrained myself from punching him straight in the face. _Calm down._ I told myself. _You can punch him all you want once you're in the arena._

I don't know why he called me the Cheshire Cat. It was mainly because of my eyes, I think, because there was no way I smirked like the cat from Alice in Wonderland, or listened like the cat, or disappear like the cat (I wish), or annoyed him like the cat annoys Alice. At least, I think I don't annoy him. It's quite the opposite.

"Don't be mad at me, Cheshire." Finnick grinned. "I only want to be your friend."

"I don't need a friend." I said dully. "We're going to be killing each other off soon anyways." It was true. What was the point of making a friend days before you were put in an arena, only to kill each other without any second thoughts?

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, if I were you." Finnick smirked before leaving to talk to Katniss.

I held in another sigh. How many days will I have to live? What were the chances of me winning? Would I want to live if I did? I would've killed the faces of the rebellion, or let others kill them. I half contemplated killing myself before the Games, even though I knew it was impossible. Once again I am reminded of the Capitol's cruelty as I look around. Even though I'm not close with any of them, I can see that I lot of them are close to each other, and I know the pain they will be feeling when they are close to are killed – or worse, when they are the ones who have to kill them.

I hear footsteps coming towards me. I have half a mind to tell Finnick to go shove it, but before I do something stupid like causing a scene, I see that it's not Finnick, but Peeta Mellark from District 12.

"Hi." I'm glad it's not Finnick, but I have no idea what to say to this kid. "I'm Peeta, District 12." He smiled.

I almost smiled back; his face was just so innocent and pure, without the harsh look in his eyes that said he killed someone, the look that everyone else in this room had.

_No. _I stopped myself before I smiled at him. _You promised yourself. You promised not to._

"Nice to meet you." I said robotically. "Hannah. District 5."

He continued to talk to me, trying to get me say longer answers. I answered as shortly as I could. He was clearly disappointed, but he hid it.

I tried to keep my face as emotionless as possible. _He's so innocent. _I thought pitifully. _So young. Yet forced to play the terrible game that the rest of us have won. _He looked so happy, almost oblivious to the fact that he might die in a few days, even though everybody knows it could happen.

_He's just like – _I thought before stopping myself. _Don't think of that. If you do, you'll start crying. And then everyone will see. You've made it this far. You've only got a few days left. _

Finally, Peeta drifted away. I was thankful. Whenever he was nearby, all I could do was think and wonder.

They finally made us all walk out into the Capitol. Everyone was staring at Katniss and Peeta in their glowing jumpsuits. I was extremely glad. I haven't felt this –_ revealed – _since I was born. I walked slightly self consciously, wobbling a little. I looked down at my legs. Long and stick like – almost like a bird. Chicken legs, that's what they are. I waited for President Snow to finish his little pep-talk and resisted the urge to run up to him and smack his head against the podium until his head bleeds. Better yet, until he stops moving. He was making innocent children die and he was watching it. He's making me _kill _innocent children, when really I should be killing him.

I smiled slightly at the thought of Snow's blood coating the podium. Finnick glanced my way and I quickly wiped the smile off my face. I hope he didn't see it.

Snow said his speech while I fantasized about his blood on my hands, and all the different ways I could get it there.

**So, I hope you guys enjoyed that!**

**Sorry for the weird ending…. I'm not very good with ending stuff.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	3. Life As A Tribute

**Hullo everybody who is still here!**

**Thank you SO SO much for sticking by – it's been a good three months (four, perhaps? Five?) since my last update, and well, yeah. **

**As you probably know by now, I'm quite terrible at keep promises – and no, I have no excuse for the lack of posting. It's just plain laziness, a frightfully frequent disorder that I have.**

**Anyways, I know you guys are all waiting (if there is anybody left) for the chapter!**

**Disclaimer : Suzanne Collins owns The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay.**

I woke up with a start, the sunlight pouring into the room.

Today was the day training started. I yanked on a simple tank top and shorts and slipped into my trusty sneakers. I pulled my hair up into a high pony tail and brushed my teeth and washed my face.

When I finished, I looked back into the mirror.

Cat eyes. That's the first thing I notice when I look in the mirror. It made me look inhuman, like an animal. It made me look hideous.

_You're beau – _The familiar words rang in my head. I pushed them out. Not now. If I think about it now, I'll break down. I'll think about it later. Or never.

I took the elevator down to the training centre – a large floor filled with weapons to train for the next few days. It was still early, and there were not that many people in the centre yet, but once the other tributes came down, it would absolute chaos.

I practiced every station. I excelled in all of them. There was not a certain weapon that I favored, since I could use all of them equally well. I still worried. Would this be enough to fight in combat? I could wrestle an average man, but could I wrestle Chaff? I could throw tridents, but could I hit Finnick? I could wield an axe, but would it be pointless if I was facing Johanna? The answer was that I would probably die in any of those situations. I tried not to think about the other tributes around me, how threatening and intimidating they seemed.

Of course I didn't notice Finnick completely decapitating the moving dummy from twenty meters away with his trident.

Of course I didn't notice Chaff completely crushing every bone of the poor person underneath him while he was wrestling.

Of course I didn't notice Johanna's axe embed itself so deep into the wall that I could see the foundation of the walls begin to crack.

Of course I didn't. I didn't notice it at all.

I trained harder.

That's how the next few days went. Train. Train harder. Eat lunch. Continue training. Train, train train. Eat dinner. Keep on training. Train some more. Sleep. Repeat.

_I must live. _That was my mantra to keep me going.

_I must live. _Why did I have to live? I was supposed to die if the rebellion was to exist.

_I must live. _Maybe there was a loophole.

_I must live. _Why am I doing this again?

_I must live. _Maybe I should just die on the first day.

_I must live. _I'll live and so will Katniss and Peeta.

_I must live. _And then I'll kill all of those Peacekeepers.

_I must live. _How was that possible?

_I must live. _This is impossible.

_I must live. _This is stupid.

_I must…._

I trained day and night. I trained instead of sleeping. I would have to learn to live on a few hours of sleep anyways. When the centre was empty and the sky was dark, I would train, the sounds of the weapons echoing in the dark.

Before I knew it, it was judging. They were going to be judging us on how deadly we are, and then revealing it to everybody so we know who's competition, and the citizens know who to root for.

I was sitting by myself just wanting get this over with so I can train. I had to train. I had to live. Or at least, I had to protect Katniss and Peeta. And find a loophole. But first things first, I had to train. I was twitchy and jumpy. I had a bit of problem when it comes of obsessively doing something.

"Hey Cheshire." Finnick appeared beside me again. I groaned internally. "Do you think you'll do good?"  
>"Passable." I said colorlessly.<p>

"Why so gloomy, Cheshire?" Finnick poked me. "You might have a few days to live and you're going to spend it like this? Liven up a little!"

I tensed. Was he trying to tell me he was going to kill me on the first day? Maybe I was reading it in too much. But maybe that's what he meant. Maybe he really had plans to kill me. Maybe this whole "I'm-an-annoying-prick" thing is just an act to get my guard down.

Finnick noticed I tensed, and I had a feeling he could almost see the gears in my brain whirling from thinking of all the possibilities of what that one phrase really meant.

"You need to have fun." Finnick grinned.

I didn't want to know what his definition of 'fun' was. I stood up and began to leave to find somewhere else to wait.

"Don't be like that, Cat." Finnick called. "You never know when you'll need me."

I almost snorted. Need _him_? He was probably going to kill me on the first day without any hesitation. He is. He will. And if he doesn't someone else will. I might die. And as corny as it sounds, I'm too young to die. Everybody here is too young to die – even Mags, who is probably over eighty years old. We're all too young to die as long as we haven't seen a better world yet in this hellhole.

I sat down on another seat. Finnick was about to come over when thankfully, they announced it was his turn for judging. I waited as I heard the dull _thuds _of Finnick's signature trident.

Finally, they called me. It was nothing special, really. Throw some knives, shoot some arrows, punch a few things. Resist the temptation to kill every single one of them. Stare each and every single one of them in the eye and wonder what they find so entertaining of watching people kill each other in front of them and make it public for everybody to see. I see some of them flinch as I stare at them for too long. I can imagine it – disturbing cat eyes that look like the wearer is about to pounce, but instead of on an animal, on a human. Not something you see everyday, and not something you _want _to see everyday. I make sure they can understand that I hate each and every single one of them without even saying anything. I can feel their discomfort when I'm there, and their relief when I walk out. The thought of them being disgusted of me almost makes me smile.

The results came out that night. It was predictable. High scores for the Career tributes, low scores for the poorer districts. Average for me. The surprising thing was that both Katniss and Peeta scored a 12 – the highest score possible. It was a first in the Hunger Games history.

What did they do to get that score?

The interviews were the next night. I spent the whole day with my prep team and designer. Hours later, my skin was feeling raw and sore, and I couldn't entirely feel all of my body parts.

I didn't even know what my designer is making me wear to the interviews.

I walked to the elevator and went down to the room where everyone was waiting for their interview turns. I looked at the tributes, every single one of them wearing something different, but their fashion style didn't matter to me. The one person that caught my eye was Katniss. She was wearing a gorgeous white wedding dress. It fitted her perfectly, and the design was intricate and delicate – detailed but not overdone. There was only one word to describe Katniss in the dress – beautiful.

I felt a sharp twinge inside of me. It was partially jealousy and partially pain.

I shook it off and walked towards her.

**Uh-oh! What's going to happen next? Sorry for it being quite short. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**Reviews would be great!**


	4. Human

**Hey there!**

**To make up for my long, long absence (see last chapter's notes), I will be posting more chapters!**

**Yay!**

**Anyways, this chapter is told in Katniss' point of view – and yes, it is very short. I promise the next chapter will be longer. And yes, this time I do intend to keep this promise.**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins – except Hannah.**

I stood there as all the tributes looked at me. Cashmere from District 1 told me I looked ridiculous. Johanna from District 7 straightened my necklace. What was next?

I saw Hannah Salven make her way over to me. I panicked a little. I haven't talked to her yet, though Peeta told me she seemed stiff and preoccupied. By watching her tapes, I'll admit I was nervous. What was her plan for my death?

She bent down towards me. She was taller than me, even when she wasn't wearing heels. I noticed things about her features that the tapes didn't show – a slight splatter of freckles, slightly damp from the water she used to wash of the Capitol's ridiculous make-up. Long, naturally curled eyelashes, slight calluses on her hands from training. A tooth that was slightly crooked on the side of her mouth. Tiny, small things that made me remember she wasn't some robot District 5 created, but a human with the tiniest details.

She smoothed a crease in my dress and pulled up the part of the glove that rolled down.

"There." She said softly. It was the first time I heard her say something without sounding like a robot. I looked up and looked into her cat eyes. She looked at me one last time before turning around and leaving.

Her eyes weren't dull or bored, like they normally were. When they looked at me, I saw the faintest trace of pain and sadness in them. For a split second, I thought I saw a small, sad smile flicker across her face.

I watched Hannah's interview from the television in the room. Her responses were short and monotonous, and I could tell that Caesar was trying his best to make her interview interesting. Though there was nothing different from her previous interviews, I couldn't help but to wonder how the robot Hannah came to be.

**Hannah? Human-like? Gasp! **

**Stay tuned for chapter 5!**

**Thanks for reading, and as usual, reviews are always appreciated.**


	5. As One

**Did I say this chapter was going to be longer?**

**Whoops.**

**This time, it is in fact, not because a flash of laziness hit me.**

**In all honesty, I was wondering how to make those little dashes into the story, you know, the ones that show that time has passed?**

**If you have no idea what I'm babbling about, I don't blame you.**

**Anyways, on my quest to find this curious little dash – and get it to work on this website, I had to cut my story short. **

**In fact, in previous chapters, if you have noticed that sometimes it seems like a few sentences aren't quite joined properly, it's because there was supposed to be a dash in between to signify that time has passed, but the dash never appeared for some odd reason.**

**My point is – SORRY for the short chapter, and if anyone knows how to get this curious little dash to show up, please message me.**

**Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: Once again, Suzanne Collins owns everything except Hannah.**

My interview was finally over. It was terrible – horrifying – everyone's eyes on me. I tried not to show the fact that I was nervous, and answered all of the questions as quick and shortly as possible.

Katniss and Peeta's interview was a shocker. Katniss' wedding dress lit on fire and she turned into a mockingjay. Peeta told everyone that Katniss was pregnant. All of Panem cried and felt pity for this terrible, star-crossed lovers who were destined for a dark future.

The twinges of jealousy and pain turned into stabs. I looked down to avoid looking into anyone's eyes and letting them see me. I bit down hard on my lip, drawing blood, thankful for the slight distraction of what was going through my head.

The interviews ended.

Just as the cameras were about to finish rolling, Katniss grabbed Chaff's stump of a hand and Cecilia's hand. Other tributes started holding hands. I stood up and felt two hands slip into both of my hands. On one side, I was holding Wiress' hand, wrinkly but soft, and on the other I was holding Finnick's calloused and rough hand. Finnick gave me a winning smile that said, _I told you so. You do need me. _I resisted the temptation to crush his hands into bits, partially because it would ruin the whole district-murders-uniting thing, but mostly because he would probably crush my hand twice as bad as I could ever do to him.

Soon, all of the tribute's hands were joined. All the districts were connected together for the first time since the Dark Days. The Capitol would hate this. The cameramen tried to close their cameras before anyone saw it, but it was already too late. All across Panem, families in front of their TVs saw the tributes united.

As one.

Ready to fight.

Tonight would be my last night before I entered the Games again.

I go up to the rooftop of the building.

Breathe in the crisp air. Feel the wind in my hair. Feel the ground underneath my toes. Take in the city lights. Enjoy what could be my last night on Earth.

I look up to the pitch black sky.

_Tomorrow, _I thought, _I might see you again._

_It's been too long…_I said wistfully in my head. _But maybe tomorrow we can be together again._

_And if not? _A voice in the back of my head asked. _What if you don't die tomorrow?_

_If I don't die tomorrow, I'll live for the both of us. _I said in my head to the voice. _And I'll get revenge. _

**Lovely sad chapter, innit?**

**Sorry, I've just always wanted to say that.**

**Next chapter up soon!**

**Thanks for reading and reviews are very welcome!**


	6. Foreshadow

**It's finally the day!**

**It's finally the chapter!**

**Time to get some action in!**

**I warn you, I'm a terrible action-y writer. I'm a terrible writer in general, ha-ha.**

**Anyways, hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the brilliant idea of kids-killing kids and all. **

The next morning was a blur.

Slip on tank top, shorts, and sweater. Put on scuffed sneakers. Pull hair up into pony tail. Look at self in the mirror for the last time. Tell myself how ugly I look. Try to not notice the growing bats in my stomache.

It doesn't matter if you're the best fighter. It doesn't matter if you know everybody is weaker than you. You're still going to be nervous. The scenario doesn't change – there are 23 bloodthirsty tributes that are ready to kill you, ready to end your life no matter what. If that doesn't make you nervous, then you're not human.

Go downstairs. Eat breakfast. Is lead to the room where we ascend to the arena. Tracker is stuck into arm.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it. You'll be okay. You're not going to die. You'll be okay.

My hands are sweating. I don't believe myself.

Step into the tube that will lead me to my death. Feet are locked into place. Tube ascends.

Oh my God, what am I doing here, I'm going to die, I'm going to d-

Tube stops ascending. Reaches the arena. Look around.

Enjoy the last precious moments in which I won't have to worry about someone sticking a knife in my back. Enjoy how nice it is to not be distrustful and cautious of every little thing. Don't waste these precious seconds freaking out.

I can feel every movement, every bead of sweat and every short breath. A voice announces the Third Quell. Wait.

My heart is pumping a mile a minute, beating loudly enough for the tributes next to me to hear.

Cannons ring to signal the start of the 75th Hunger Games.

Oh my God, it's starting it's star-

Run.

I run, balancing on the narrow beams. This year's theme for the arena was the Cornucopia in the middle, water surrounding it, thin beams leading to the Cornucopia, a beach around the water, and a rainforest around the beach.

I dash towards the Cornucopia, hoping, praying, that I get there first, but just by looking at the other tributes, faces screwed up in concentration, legs flying out farther than mine, I know I'm not.

There are knives, spears, everything, flying and whizzing all around me as soon as I reach the Cornucopia. I'm hardly aware of this. I dash to where the weapons lay and grab whatever I can get my hands on, and I'm out of there. As I was running back to the beach, a spear came whizzing at me, and trapped on the beam, my body dropped like a ton of bricks, lying down flat on the beam, the weapons pressing into my skin.

I flip up, only to see the girl from Nine, charging towards me with another spear. It's too late to run, I know, and it would be stupid to run, unable to see when the girl is going to plunge my insides with that spear. I duck and trip her, and she falls face-first onto the beam. She jumps up quickly, and I see blood streaming from her mouth. It then turns into some sort of duel between us, while at the same time trying to avoid the other tributes.

I sneak a quick glance around, and the place is littered with bodies, and most of the tributes have scattered, though there are some left. I lose concentration and just barely avoid the girl's spear. Girl 9 is stubborn and refuses to just run away, or let me kill her, because I've gotten some good stabs with a large knife, and she is clearly weakening. I decide to just end it by throwing the knife as hard as I can towards her chest. This time, unlike the other failed times, it hits the target squarely in the chest. The girl slumps down on the beam, and I pull out the knife from her chest before pushing her body into the water. Wouldn't want some roadblock now, would we?

I begin running off the beam, when skid to a stop. I'm about to yell out a warning, but it's too late. I see Finnick plunge his trident into my other District 5 tribute – my neighbor, and at one point, my colleague. I see his eyes meet my own, and I know that he remembers the very first time we saw he each other – when I accidently crashed into him in the labs when I was three or four. I remembered the way he was so nice to me even though I spilled the beaker liquid he worked so hard on, and the way he would always smile at me in the hallways when we saw each other.

I remember watching him get reaped, and watching him win. I remember seeing him drunk and drinking inside his house, trying to drink away his fears, not unlike Haymitch.

And then suddenly, I'm back in the Games. His eyes look at me for the last time, and then they're empty, dead. Finnick whirls around and throws his spear at me, and I dart out of the way, but just a little too late. One of the trident's sharp prongs scratches my left arm and leaves it bleeding.

I run as deep into the forest as I could, trying to erase the sight of the trident sticking deep into the man's body, blood oozing out, the sickening _crunch _it made when he caught him like a fisherman catches a fish.

I can't bear looking at people I know die in front of me. If I've talked to them, even if it was just once, it's hard for me to watch. I guess even as a victor, you can't get used to those things.

_It's not as bad as….._

I shake all thoughts of District 5 out of my head. I've wasted enough time thinking of the past. I only managed to grab two things from the Cornucopia, a large double-sided axe and the long knife I used to kill that girl. I cut off a vine and strap the axe to my back, so it's easily accessible and acts as a protection from whoever wants to stick something in my back. I keep the knife in my hand.

I look around. All around me, it's thick, lush land. A rainforest. I explore the land. It's thick and green, with little animals skittering everywhere. The plants are all overgrown and the branches of the tree are tangled and gnarled. The rainforest almost seemed safe. I explored most of the area – memorizing it. But I didn't dare to venture too far, in case I met up with more tributes. I had the area I was in down pat – which was a rather large space, around a quarter of the whole area. I memorized the tricky trails, the little hiding spots. But there was still the other three quarters, and there are tributes lurking everywhere.

The one thing that the rainforest didn't have was water. Yes, there was the beach's saltwater, but going out there was risky. There were no little ponds or even rain puddles.

By the middle of the day, I was parched. I hunted a few lizard-like creatures and toasted them, but there was still no water in sight. I was aching for water, aching to go to the beach and drink all of its contents. I begged in my mind for my nonexistent sponsers to give me a bottle of water.

Night quickly arrives, by then I have managed to find a nice spot up in the trees where the canopy provides shelter from the rain, and it is high enough to see anybody coming. The comfort levels, however, aren't too high. The Capitol anthem plays, and the faces of the dead tributes flash through the sky. The male from District 5 is first, and I look down quickly to avoid seeing his face in the air. That meant all the Districts from 1 to 4 were alive. I saw more faces in the air, and it made me nervous to see in the air confirming that the biggest, most brutal competitors were still in the arena, hunting for blood.

I slept fitfully, and awoke at dawn to the tree being shaken violently. I climbed down from the tree, only to be greeted by dozens of orange, extremely large monkeys. Mutations. Of course. The snarled, advancing towards me, showing me their sharp teeth. I smiled, the faintest hint of grins, wondering if the same trick would work twice.

A good ten minutes later, my hands are bloody and stained, and there are the corpses of the monkeys everywhere, each body broken and mangled, and the bodies clearly show that a human didn't kill them – that their death was from a rabid animal with long claws, sharp teeth, and orange hair…

The next few days – was it days? Perhaps it was only one, but it sure felt like days – were spent hunting and sneaking drinks from the saltwater on the beach. Peeta and Katniss' alliance lived on the beach, and going there was risky – especially since her alliance was so big. I was careful to be on the opposite end of the beach from their alliance, and behind the Cornucopia. I only stole water in the middle of the night, when whoever was on guard wasn't looking. It was risky, but I didn't want to die of dehydration. I mean, really, there's got to be a more honorable way to die than of lack of water when there's water only meters away.

Other than the occasional trips for water, since I didn't have a canister (thanks, sponsers), the day was uneventful.

Things can't stay this way. Something bad is going to happen.

I try to enjoy the setting sun in the arena, but something in the back of my mind is telling me that the worst is yet to come.

**Here you go! Some mystery, some action, some – well, that's about it. The rest is all babbling nonsense.**

**Anyways, thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated.**


	7. Blood and Bones

**Hullo!**

**So, thank you for sticking around! It's been a week and a bit since my last post, and if you've been following this story before my 4 (5?) month hiatus, a big pat on the back to you!**

**Sorry if there are any typos and/or grammar mistakes; I'm not too big on proofreading.**

**I'm quite impulsive when it comes to stories, so I just write whatever without checking or thinking about whether or not anything sounds too stupid – same thing for naming chapters. I'm bloody terrible at those and just think of whatever comes into my mind first. **

**Now that I'm done with my little rant of what to expect (or what not to expect), here is the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns everything about the Hunger Games. Except for Hannah. **

The next day, I am awoken by the monkeys again. And again, ten minutes later their blood is on my hands, and again their bodies are mangled and broken, and again, all signs are pointing to the fact that a human did not kill them.

I was hunting for more animals again, when I accidently stepped on a stick, cracking it. Normally I'm careful about sticks and leaves and any other things that creates loud noises when I'm walking, but I had my eye on a lizard, and my distraction led me to being found.

I froze the second the stick snapped, not daring to even breathe. I saw movement in the trees, and a flash of gold told me exactly who it was.

Finnick.

His trident was shining in the sun, his hand gripping on it tightly, awaiting danger as he prowled around the area, looking for the source of the noise. I was partially obscured by the trees, but he was inching closer and closer, and I knew I had to move now before he got too close.

As quiet as a whisper, I leaped up into a nearby tree, my feet making no sound as I jumped and landed onto a branch.

Finnick wasted no time, and upon hearing the slightest noise of my jump, he threw his trident at the tree where I was hiding in, but I was already leaping out of the tree and landing into another one.

Finnick wasted no time in yanking out his trident from the tree and trying to catch me. Instead of using his trident, however, as he knew it would be too slow, he followed my movements in the tree, trying to catch my legs and pull me down, missing by mere centimeters.

This continued for a while, until I stalled for a split second, allowing for Finnick to grab my leg and yank me down, hard.

I crashed into the hard forest floor, and rolled away just in time, as Finnick stabbed his trident down hard into the ground. I pulled the axe out from the vines that I tied around my back and swiped it at Finnick's fingers, missing by millimeters. I jumped back on my two feet, holding the axe in a death grip. Finnick stared me straight in the eye, something flickering in his own eyes.

Was it anger? Hate? Disgust?

_I knew he was going to kill me. It was all just an act, friends my -_

I didn't even get time to finish my thoughts, as Finnick started charging at me, making the first move. I dodged it swiftly and he plunged again. I swung the axe the hardest I could, only scratching his arm. The fight was brutal. He stabbed, I ducked. I swung, he dodged. There were punches and kicks thrown, scratches and yells involved, and soon we were both bloodied and tired. But we both didn't stall. Whoever showed any signs of weakness would be the one to die.

I took a good look at Finnick, pleased with the damage I did. There were multiple cuts on his arm, and a long scratch on his chest and back. There were long cat scratches running down the side of his face, and he had a black eye. Not to mention I also punched him a few times, _finally. _His beautiful face bruised and scarred, and blood gushing from every movement he made. It was probably one of the happiest moments in my life.

I, however, probably didn't look any better. He packed some hard punches, and I could feel bruises all over my stomache and legs. There were also scratches on my arms, and he managed to get a long cut where my collarbone was. I could feel I had a cut lip and another cut near one of my eyebrows, which was dripping blood into my eyes.

We were both bloody and tired, but it was a fight to the death, and we ran at each other again. Our weapons were long broken, thrown aside when they became useless.

I mustered enough strength to kick him hard in the knee, and he dropped to the ground, groaning. I pounced on him quickly, using one hand to hold both of his hands above his head, and the other clasped around his neck tightly. I sat on top of him, making him unable to get up again. He gagged, struggling for air. I clasped tighter, trying to ignore the guilt that was seeping through me, trying to tell myself that this is what I _wanted, _that this is what I've been waiting for.

I tried telling myself that this was avenging the death of my District 5 neighbor. That this was revenge. But deep in my heart, I knew that my neighbor didn't want to live in this world, and that Finnick saved him.

God, this was pathetic. And stupid. I was staring down at Finnick's sea-blue eyes, killing the one victor who could stand me enough to actually try and talk to me. I could almost feel the hate rays from all of the fangirls watching at home. Here I was, thinking how cruel and sadistic killing friends and children were, and then going and killing the one person who offered a hand of friendship. I felt sick. I was no better than those Capitol people who were watching.

I let go, and I could see the color returning to his face. I stood up wearily and cursed myself on the inside for being so weak as to be unable to kill one of my biggest competition while I had the chance. But deep down, there was a voice telling me I did the right thing. And for once, I let myself listen to that tiny voice, just to make me feel a little better.

I was ready to walk away when I heard rustling nearby. I tensed, standing still and ready to run if it came to it. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Finnick was doing the same.

"Finnick! Finnick!" a girl's voice was calling. "Where are you?"

I recognized it as Katniss' voice. I heard another voice calling the same thing, and this time it was Johanna Mason's voice, the female tribute from District 7.

They were close. I should've run. But I don't know how hard Finnick must've punched me, because my brain was telling my body to move, but my body was rooted to the floor.

_Go, stupid! _My brain was screaming. _You idiot! Move! They're going to kill you!_

By the time my body came to its senses, it was too late. I could hear Katniss and Johanna stepping through the trees, seeing Finnick beaten up, on the floor, bleeding. I leaped up into a tree and darted away, and Johanna had thrown her axe at the tree I jumped into, narrowly missing my legs. Johanna and Katniss were chasing after me as I darted from tree to tree, trying to escape Katniss' arrows and Johanna's axe.

But this time I was slower. Finnick and his stupid punches and bruises have made my joints creaky and sore, and it wasn't long before my brain miscalculated, and I slipped and tumbled out of a tree, landing hard on all of the bruises and cuts, the pain shooting through me, worse than before. I bit my lip hard, tasting blood, trying to stop my face from contorting out in pain. I knew there were cameras nearby, and I knew Panem was waiting for the long overdue death of Hannah Salven, on the edges of their seats to see if they'll find wires and electricity inside of me instead of blood and organs.

Katniss and Johanna were with me in a second, and I could see Johanna's axe lifted high in the air, gleaming wickedly, while Katniss left the scene, sure that Johanna would be able to finish the task herself. I just lay there, unmoving like a robot out of batteries.

I didn't want to close my eyes – I wanted to enjoy the last time I'll see the colors of the earth, the last time I'll breathe in the fresh air around us, the last time I'll be able to feel anything in this body, even if it is pain.

Her axe is coming down, and I'm trying hard not to think about the pain, trying to just _live _for the last time – when a glint of gold appears and knocks over Johanna, the axe millimeters away from my neck.

Johanna is still holding on to her axe when she falls over, and as she falls, the axe leaves a long, deep gash on my side.

If I thought the pain was bad before, it was nothing compared to what it was now. I could feel the pain slicing through me, like my body was being chopped up, hit by a thousand arrows, dipped into acid, and then torn apart by rabid dogs, and then repeated ten times.

I turn my face to the side, unable to keep my face straight any longer. I guess I came off lucky in my first Games, never suffering more than a few scratches from rabid tributes, though their attempts were useless when I was about to kill them. I got bit a few times when I killed all of those mutation alligators, and the last Career boy did cut me up pretty bad, but I did manage to dodge the worst of his swings, and he was quite sloppy with a knife.

But it was nothing like this. I could feel the wound pulsing, warm blood spilling out, the pain magnifying with every growing second. I try to even out my breaths, closing my eyes tightly to try and block out the pain.

It doesn't work.

I guess Finnick must've knocked my ears out as well, or maybe the pain was taking up so much of me that my hearing was failing me, because Johanna and Finnick's conversation was muffled and hazy to me. I recall hearing muffed yells and shouts, but it stopped soon, after some stomping away, which I'm guessing belongs to Johanna.

I was right, because soon the sun that was shining on me was covered by a shadow, and I saw familiar sea-blue eyes staring at me.

"Thank you." Finnick whispers to me, while trying to stop the gushing blood.

"You should've let her kill me." I rasp to him. "It would be easier."

"You'll be needed in the future for something important." He whispers, mouth centimeters from my ear as he continues trying to staunch the blood. He's saying it so quietly I almost didn't catch him.

It suddenly hits me that he's talking about the rebellion – the way he made it so private – and plus, I'm not exactly handy for the future in the Games, since I'm probably going to die soon anyways.

He pats my shoulder softly and says loud enough for the cameras to hear, "Keep holding on, Cat." The tone in which he said it was mocking, as if he knew I was going to die.

I was going to die, and there was no stopping it. But his warm, friendly pat showed that he really meant it, that he knew I should try my hardest to hold on, for whatever reason he needs me for in the future.

He must've pretended to be checking out how bad the wound was, while actually trying to stop the bleeding. Clearly for the cameras, he wasn't going to go all buddy-buddy on me after I tried to kill him and after one of his alliance members tried to kill me.

So he left me like roadkill on the side of the street, while I tried to even out my breathing.

I lay there, against the trees, my blood flowing out of me, along with the last of my hopes of surviving.

I was going to die. And there was nothing I could do.

**So that's it! **

**Some action there, eh? **

**I figured it was time for some suffering – it's no fun to write a Hunger Games story without any blood in it – even if the suffering in this story was kind of lame.**

**Anyways, so, thanks for reading, and reviews are very much appreciated!**

**Seriously – a review completely makes my day. Thank you to everyone who reviewed so far!**

**Stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	8. Jabberjays

**Hullo!**

**Thank you SO SO much for all of the reviews and for reading – it really means a lot to me.**

**But when reading the reviews, I had a mini heart attack because this story is actually NOT a Finnick/Hannah pairing. **

**I am so, so sorry if I lead any of you guys on.**

**If you guys want, I can rewrite the chapters to be a Hannah/Finnick story, but expect longer periods between updates. **

**The second option is that I can start another Hunger Games story that IS Finnick/OC, while updating Heart of Stone regularly (or as regular as it gets).**

**So you can message me or write in your reviews which option you'd rather prefer!**

**Sorry again ):**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins, except for Hannah. **

I remember clawing my way to a strange area, where there were sounds of the one I had left screaming. I remember hearing faint screams and cries, since my ear was quite busted up, I didn't register the sound until a few minutes later. I realized they were jabberjays that cried and screamed in the sounds of a human.

That's where I stayed for however long I did. I recall night passing at one point. I would hunt the birds and just dissect them, taking out the vocal recordings and sensor camera in it. They tasted awful, but I didn't really care.

I couldn't hear properly. I could barely see straight. I can't taste food. I couldn't remember most of the basic things. All I did was feel the pain of my side. Johanna's cut must've been really deep because the blood kept on gushing. Soon, I could barely move my fingers.

I knew I had to act fast. I was losing blood. I was dying.

_I was needed. _

Finnick said I was needed. I couldn't die now. I wouldn't let myself die someplace that the Capitol created. And I definitely wouldn't be dying in front of them and giving them the pleasure of seeing my body pale and unmoving.

Sometime near dawn, I killed another jabberjay, skinning it, digging for its bones. I pulled out one of its sharpest and thinnest bones, and starting unraveling the thread from my shirt. When I finally got everything I needed, my fingers were trembling from what I was going to do.

Propping myself against a tree, my fingers were shaking while I told myself to man up and just do it.

Closing my eyes tightly, I poked the bone through my skin. It only felt like a small jab next to the unstoppable, throbbing pain of the cut. I slowly guided my hand to where it needed to go, while using all the concentration I could muster to not screw up.

The work was slow and tedious, but I was finally finished sewing myself up. I could stand up a little, and my organs were no longer in danger of falling out of my body.

But I'm no nurse, and the job was sloppy. But it was all I could do.

I was eating another jabberjay and getting ready to go back to the Cornucopia and get some water when I heard the loud blast of a cannon.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. It's been forever since I've heard that sound. The sound of death.

I pause, half hidden behind a tree, just incase there were tributes around. Another cannon rings shortly after. A third cannon follows the second one a few minutes afterwards.

After standing for fifteen minutes behind that tree, I deduced that there were no tributes around my area.

I slunk down to the tree again.

_Who died?_

Three cannons. Three dead victors. Eight more left.

Was it the Careers? There were still both victors from 1 and 2 – Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria, and Brutus. Maybe Katniss' alliance finally got rid of them.

Was it Chaff? He was the only other victor besides me who wasn't in an alliance. Perhaps the Careers caught him.

The last sickening thought comes to me. Maybe it was Katniss' alliance. Maybe it was Katniss herself.

Maybe the Careers ambushed them. The Careers were strong, but I knew that altogether, Katniss' alliance could be stronger. But it's the Hunger Games. Either luck sways in your direction or it doesn't. Anything was possible.

Three cannons. Three dead victors.

It could be three enemies dead.

Or it could be the three faces that Panem needs most.

I nearly die of anticipation waiting for the night to come. I stay high up in a tree, next to a jabberjay. There was what seemed like a hundred of jabberjays around me, all of them silent, eyes as yellow as mine. I needed something to pass the time.

The anthem finally plays. Cashmere's face appears first. Then Gloss'. I heave a large sigh of relief, but it's not completely out yet. There's still one more death.

Wiress from District 3 appears high in the sky. I bite down on my lip, remembering the feel of her soft, wrinkly hands holding mine at the interviews when all the victors were united. I remember her kind smile, and I remember how she and Beetee were inseparable.

I sigh softly, letting the grief for Wiress wash through me. I close my eyes, trying not to think about the dead victors and how they could've been if they weren't victors, and trying not to think about a world without the Hunger Games.

I fall asleep in the tree. I don't need to keep guard. The many pairs of yellow eyes do it for me.

I wake up early in the morning, the sun shining brightly in the sky. I eat another rat-creature that I found hiding in a tree nearby. I send a few jabberjays out, and I sit and wait in the tree for an hour until they return.

They all flap their wings a few times, meaning _no, _which was strange.

One flock of jabberjays was searching for the remaining Careers. If they were nearby, the jabberjays would chirp a warning. One flock of jabberjays was searching for Chaff. He wasn't nearby either, as they didn't chirp.

The last flock was for Katniss' alliance. If they were on the beach, the flock was to chirp. However, they said no. I trusted them. I could tell they weren't on the beach, either.

But the question was _why. _The beach was the best spot in all of the arena. It had water. It provided food. It had weapons. The alliance wouldn't evacuate into the forest with dangers unknown if they didn't have a plan.

I sent another flock out, this time in search of Katniss' alliance.

I decided to go to the Cornucopia one last time for another check for weapons. I only had a splintered blade of the knife, and I wasn't in any shape to fight after Johanna's scrape.

I quickly bounded to the Cornucopia, not wanting to stay for more than what was absolutely needed, since Katniss probably has something planned.

There weren't many weapons left compared to the initial bloodbath, though there was still a large number left over.

I was scouting around quickly, when something glinting in the sun caught my eye.

I walked over, entranced.

It was a belt, with a series of crystal spikes attached to it. Each spike was about four to six inches long, the ends pointing wickedly. I picked up the belt and ran as fast as I could back into the forest.

When I reached the area of the jabberjays, I finally stopped and took a good look at it. The belt was a dark brown, and made out of a thick metal material. It was lightweight, but thick. I was amazed at the brown color of the metal.

The spikes hung from a short string attached securely to the belt. It was easy to rip off the spike from the belt to throw, but it stayed on while running.

However, it was what was inside the crystals that entranced me. The outer layer was a gleaming crystal, but the inside was liquid black. It was slow moving, like honey, but each crystal had a large amount of it inside.

I recognized it. I forgot its name, but it was chemical that was produced in District 5.

District 5 was the District of Science. Since there was so much science that the Capitol wanted, there were different departments. As children, we studied a little bit about each department, and once we turn eleven, we got to pick a department we would stay in for the rest of our lives.

I didn't go into the chemical department, but I remember my teacher mentioning its properties.

It was a chemical, that if it touched skin, it would immediately eat away the skin, sizzling. The person would be dead in seconds. It eventually reaches their bloodstreams, and after that, it doesn't take long for it to reach a vital organ.

The ends of the spikes are closed, but I predicted that after reaching contact with skin, it would open and release the chemical.

I put the belt on, and the spikes sway, sounding like wind chimes. The flock of jabberjays that I sent to look for Katniss returns. They start to flutter away, and I signal the other flocks to follow. I follow the first flock, with the rest of the jabberjays behind me. With their wings and my spikes, we sound like the soft rustling of the wind, something we haven't felt in ages.

Sometime later, around three minutes of running around, I stop the flocks. They line up obediently. I sent one third of them to find the Careers and try to kill them, or at least weaken them. I send another third to find Chaff and kill him. I send half of the remaining third to watch over Katniss and Peeta, just in case. The last half of the remaining third is to lead me to them.

We proceed again.

The jabberjays lead me to one members of the alliance some ten minutes later. My side is throbbing again, but compared to the pain of the fresh open wound, I don't feel it at all.

I saw the familiar glint of gold, but it doesn't shine as much as it did before.

It's Finnick. Without his trident.

I'm about yell out his name or something when I notice something else.

Another tribute.

Chaff. He was facing Finnick, and they were about five meters about from each other.

They're both panting heavily, and I see Chaff's spear and Finnick's trident broken, thrown to the side.

They're about to duel it out, no weapons – just skin against skin.

I know Finnick is going to lose. He may be strong, but Chaff is amazing in wrestling and arm-to-arm combat, and Finnick doesn't stand a chance.

They're about to charge at each other. Finnick's back is to me, and if Chaff really looked around hard enough, he would see me in the shadows. But he is concentrating on Finnick. Concentrating on killing one of his biggest competition.

They run together, colliding with the loud smack of skin against skin. In the large commotion, I quietly pull out a spike and begin aiming.

I try to block out the sound of bones crunching and grunts, and the sight of blood streaming and bruises blooming. I take aim carefully, not wanting to hit the wrong person, but with both men tumbling and rolling around, the chances of hitting the right person is seeming more and more unlikely by the second.

I don't have much time left. They're both weakening. I bit my lip in concentration, pull the spike back, and throw it as hard as I could.

The sound of skin burning away fills my ears. The putrid smell of burning skin fills my noise. But I don't waste any time. My arm is around him in a flash, one arm pressing on his throat, and the other holding a second spike, the end millimeters away from his throat.

"I won't attack." I hiss into his ear.

He nods, unable to do anything else.

I unwrap my arms cautiously, and he turns around and smiles at me.

"Cheshire! You're okay!" Finnick smiles at me.

"Clearly." I say monotonously. "Where's everybody else? Why aren't you at the beach?"  
>"Plan. Don't want to get caught up in it. Follow me, I'm supposed to be meeting them about now." He explains, not very clearly. "What is that thing, by the way?" he looks at my spike, then at Chaff's burned body.<p>

"Not something you want to mess with." I answer robotically.

Finnick accepts my explanation and leads the way, and I follow. The jabberjays flutter behind me quietly.

I guess as a victor, everybody has limits.

Finnick, after seeing what my spike did to Chaff, was already unnerved with the fact that I was walking behind him. Added with the sounds of the jabberjays in the trees, sounding like a stalking tribute, Finnick was definitely on edge.

"What IS that?" Finnick finally exploded, turning to me.

I pointed to the jabberjays, and Finnick tensed, pouncing for one of them. But the bird fluttered out of the way easily, leaving Finnick frustrated.

"They won't hurt you. I promise." I said, smiling slightly at the end, just to convince him.

He catches my rare smile and believes me.

I sense some doubt, but he doesn't say anything, and I don't either.

We walk on.

The jabberjays suddenly start chirping loudly and crazily. I tense, all senses on high – or as high as I get them after being beaten up by Finnick and then slashed by Johanna.

Finnick tenses as well, the sound loud and sudden in the quiet we've been walking in.

The jabberjays fly away, and in a few minutes, returned with a very disgruntled Enobaria. She's slashing them, but missing most of the time, and stumbling everywhere. The jabberjays are pecking at her with their new, knife-sharp beaks, and their voices and shrieking and high pitched, drawing attention to her.

She sees us and tries stabbing us with her knife, but the jabberjays are distracting her and stabbing her.

I signal Finnick to follow me as we sneak into another part of the dense forest. He stares at me, and then stares back in the direction of Enobaria and the birds with wide eyes.

"You – wha – jabberjays – "he stumbles out.

"Just lead the way." I almost roll my eyes.

He looks at me, pouting, but I ignore it and we walk on.

Again.

I'm getting thirstier and thirstier, and so is Finnick. I hope we're almost there.

Why is the arena so huge?

Finally, Finnick says, "We're here."

And true to his word, I see a swing of a dark brown braid. Katniss. Of course.

Finnick and I are running towards her, when I see her notching her bow and arrow.

Suddenly everything pieces together.

Haymitch. The Second Quarter Quell. All the walking. The wire attached to the end of Katniss' arrow.

My eyes widen. I have milliseconds to act. In a fraction of a second, the belt containing the spikes is off of me, the spikes embedded deep in the dirt.

Katniss shoots her arrow.

I push Finnick back, and he does the same to me.

A sudden burst of orange and white explodes from the arrow and where it hit.

The force of it pushes Finnick and I far up, and far away, crashing through the trees.

My side is ripped open, burning, on fire all over again, for a split second.

The pain disappears as quickly as it appears. The orange fades to black.

The arena had exploded.

**Dun dun dun dun!**

**Oh no!**

**Sorry for the lame-ish ending.**

**Remember to tell me which option you'd prefer (see message above)!**

**And as usual, thank you for reading and reviews are much appreciated. **


	9. Count to Ten

Hullo there, to all of my fellow readers.

First off, I'd like to apologize (I know, this is like the millionth time this has happened. Seriously. I really have to stop). I haven't posted in God knows how long, and I really am sorry if I have kept you waiting all these months with basically no signs of life.

Secondly, if you've been following Hannah's journey for these past many, many months from the the very beginning, I congratulate you. Really. Because you've dealt with my constant hiatuses and annoying-ness and failure to keep my promises. So I would really just like to thank you from the bottom of my heart, because it really, really is not easy dealing with my constant breaks (that are often a few months long) and I really really love you right now if you have stayed with Hannah from the very start.

Sorry if that sounded creepy.

ANYWAYS, for those of you who are still left, I will not delay you any longer!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p>I remember vaguely being pulled off of Finnick. I remember feeling the softness of sheets.<p>

But that's impossible. I'm in the Hunger Games. The arena just exploded. I'm lying somewhere in the ruined arena after crashing through trees. There's no way there's _sheets _anywhere around us.

My brain hurts from trying to deduce what's going on. My eyes still won't open, and everything is pitch black. My brain suddenly quiets down until it's silent, and I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness again.

**.**

When I woke up, I was in a strange room, white all over. It was a hospital, with white bed sheets, tubes, everything. I was about to walk out when a searing pain shot through me. I had no choice but to lie down again.

When my side finally stopped burning, I lifted myself out of the bed slowly. I could see all of my cuts and gashes were healing, almost fully recovered, though it still hurt every time I moved somewhere. I took a glimpse at my side – neatly stitched together instead of the clumsy sewing of my hands. It almost looks fully healed.

Where were we? The Capitol? My mind raced. We weren't in the arena any more. I stood up slowly, my side aching, but not hurting too much. I walk slowly towards the door, and then out into the halls.

I wandered around until I heard a familiar voice. It was Finnick's voice, along with a few more new voices. But instead of sounding like his usual confident, playboy self, the voice I heard was tired, desperate, and sad. I knocked on the door softly and turned the knob. Inside, I saw Finnick looking desperate, one very official looking man, and Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta's mentor.

"Hannah." Finnick said, trying to smile, but failing miserably. He was happy to see me, but at the same time, something was wearing him down.

I stared at him in shock and quickly covered it up again. He never called me by my name. It was always Cheshire, Cat, or even Kitty, from the first day we met. This wasn't the Finnick in the arena, or the Finnick that the Capitol knows.

He looked so tired, someone who had too much burdens for someone his age. He collapsed right into my arms.

I didn't see that coming. I fell to the floor and felt the hard floor meeting my bruised body. I swallowed a cry of pain.

"They took Annie." He sobbed into my shoulder. "They took my Annie."

I lay there, Finnick on top of me. What was I supposed to do? I've never seen a grown man cry before, nevertheless cry on my shoulder. I pat him awkwardly, completely and utterly unsure.

Annie was another tribute from District 4, the winner of the 70th Hunger Games. She also happened to be Finnick's one true love. I met her on my Victory Tour and at a few victor dinners and parties. She was a bit strange and off, but she was nice and sweet.

Haymitch and the man, seeing my distress, pulled Finnick up.

He plopped down on the chair he was sitting on before and continued bawling loudly, heaving, racking sobs that made my heart ache. Here was a man, so big and strong, who used to be so confident, and now he's broken down to pieces.

The official looking man introduced himself as Plutarch Heavensbee.

I ignored him. They took Annie? But why? Where were we? What was going on?

"What's going on?" I asked Haymitch, trying to keep myself from panicking.

"We're going to District 13. It's alive and flourishing, underground. We're going to start the rebellion against the Capitol." He answered me.

"Why did they take Annie?" I ask, pointing to Finnick, who was still crying, unaware of what was going on.

"Torture. Bait. They're using loved ones and torturing them so that we can give them some information, or stop." Plutarch answered.

It sinks in. Taken. For bait. To be tortured.

Suffer. Pain.

Possibly die.

I look at Haymitch, then to Plutarch, then finally to Finnick. Plutarch and Haymitch looked at me worriedly. They know that the Capitol has taken the last person in this world that I could love. Their faces confirm it for me.

"Hannah?" Haymitch asks me, concerned.

"You're going to get them back, aren't you?" I said softly, trembling slightly.

"Well – yes, we're trying, of course." Plutarch said uneasily, taken aback by my strange behavior.

"Trying?" I say softly, deadly. "Just trying?"

"We're doing all that we can, Ms. Salven – it's all we can – not much else we can do." Plutarch takes a few steps back.

Haymitch looks at me strangely, but tenses slightly. Finnick even stops crying for a few seconds.

I'm not sure what my brain was telling me, or what my body was doing, or why it was doing it. All I know is that it was what I did, and I don't have too much regrets.

I pounce on him, crashing him to the floor, and I have one hand holding both of his hands together in a viselike grip, the other holding his neck, but not squeezing it.

"You find them and you bring them back." I whisper dangerously into his ear. "You don't just _try. _Trying isn't good enough. Either you succeed, or – " My fingers tighten around his neck, and Plutarch gags. I could feel Haymitch and Finnick on me, trying to pull me off, but I hold on tight, not finished. " – or else I'll _try _to contain myself when I rip you from limb to limb." I finish venomously.

Haymitch and Finnick yank me off Plutarch and drag me back. As I'm being dragged away, I see Plutarch's eyes wide with fear, his face pale and filled with horror.

I almost smile at his fear. Finnick, seeing my small smile, gives me a small one in return, and I know that he doesn't mind what I did at all.

**.**

I'm going crazy. I swear I am.

I go from robot Hannah to some screaming monster.

Maybe it's because I'm not in the Capitol anymore. I don't have to hide myself.

But I know deep down, it's because I can't stand the thought of him being hurt.

Of him being tortured because of me.

Of him possibly dying because of me.

While I sit here and not be able to do anything.

_He's the only thing I have left. The only thing I have that keeps me living. I promised. I can't let go. I _won't _let go. It's my only connection to…_

I'm locked in my hospital room. I spend all day screaming myself hoarse and pounding on the walls until my fists bleed. I watch the blood trickle down my wrists and I wish they didn't remind me of what could be happening at the moment.

I don't sleep. I don't eat. I just pound on the doors, screaming for him to come back even though he's too far gone. I'm pleading for him to return even though the price to pay is impossible. I'm crying loudly, wailing and sobbing tears that I've been holding in for years. The one good thing about him not being here is being able to cry without worrying about any questions.

But the main thing that I'm trying to do is to _not think. _Don't think about what could be happening. Don't think about what had happened. Don't think about the memories. _Don't think._

Distract yourself. Scream until your throat hurts so much it's the only thing you can think about. Bleed so much that the only thing you can think about is the redness of it. Cry so much that you wash away all of the thoughts. _Don't think._

Sometime around five days after I've escaped the arena, I just plain give up. I still don't eat or sleep. But I've run out of tears to cry and voice to scream. All I can do is slump down in the corner of the room and just think about all of possibilities of what could be happening. Counting the seconds he's in pain.

_One. _He's being whipped.

_Two. _He's being thrown back into his cell roughly.

_Three. _He's bleeding uncontrollably.

_Four. _He's trying to block out the screams.

That's all I do. No one will unlock me from my room. I haven't seen any faces except for the nurse who brings in my food that just sits on the table and cools.

After days of counting, someone besides my nurse finally visits me.

"Finnick?" I whimper. I'm pathetic. I really am.

I can just imagine the sight I am. Clothes, rumpled and dirty. Hands coated with dried blood and scratches. Hair dirty and tangled like a bird's nest. Face blotchy and tearstained. Eyes yellow with red tinged around them. I look like some sort of animal that's been hit by a car and then fell into a shredder, but Finnick looks at me like I'm in a normal state.

He slumps down next to me.

"How have you been?" he smiles weakly. His eyes are no longer dancing with mischief, but dull and empty.

I only sigh deeply.

"Who are the other victors here?" I ask him tiredly, voice cracking.

"You. Me. Haymitch. Beetee. Katniss." He counted out the names.

He then shifts into a position where I have to stare at his face. I find that I no longer want to punch it, but really want to make him smile again.

"Cat, we're all facing the same thing as you." He tells me softly, looking at me straight in the eye. "We're all missing somebody. We're all going crazy."

I nod mutely.

"You've been a real racket this past week, do you know that?" Finnick says with a ghost of his old smile. "I would've come sooner to help you but Haymitch told me to give you some time."

"Why?" I croak out, voice still scratchy from screaming all week. "Why did you save me? Why didn't you just leave me in the arena? I wish they had taken me instead. I wish I was the one being tortured now. I wish…." I trail off, tears streaming down my face as I think about all the ways he's suffering.

"You're needed, Cat. I told you that, remember?" He says, his fingers preoccupied with something. I don't bother looking to see what.

I nod sadly, wiping the tears away haphazardly.

"But why me? Why not…Seeder? Or Chaff? Or anybody else?" I hiccup.

"Because you've done something that none of them has. You've done something that only a few victors have. You've done something that proves you want to be in this." He looks at me while his fingers are flying, doing something.

"And what's that?" I ask miserably.

"You defied the Capitol. You outsmarted them. You found a loophole." Finnick whispers.

I smile sadly.

"And look where it got me now."  
>"Aren't you angry, Cat? Haven't you ever been angry for the Capitol for what they've done? What they do? Haven't you ever wanted to take them down?" He pleads. "Haven't you ever wanted to just <em>fight<em>, not kill?"

I stare at him. That's all I've ever wanted. It's all I've ever been thinking about.

"You do." Finnick smiles, almost smugly. "But that's going to take a while. First things first, we've got to get you out of this – " He gestures to the mess I am. " – funk."

I keep on staring. He shows me a length of rope. So that's what he's been fiddling with.

"What you need," Finnick ties a beautiful knot, fingers flying so fast I couldn't keep up with them. "is a distraction." He unties his knot as quick as he tied it and began tying a new one.

"Something that'll take your mind off of things. Got any suggestions?" He ties a tricky knot with lots of holes and loops. With a pull of an end, it comes undone.

I shake my head.

He pulls out a notebook. "I had a feeling you would say that." He gives the notebook to me. "So I took the liberty of thinking of something for you."

I take the notebook from him. It's a simple black notebook. I opened it and found scrawled writing on the lines.

_How many people are in District 13?_

_How many rooms are in District 13?_

_How many chairs are in District 13?_

"Questions." I say slowly. "Counting questions."

"That's right." Finnick shows me all the pages of the notebook. "I figured since District 5 is all about science, the most basic thing every citizen should know is how to count, since it is probably necessary in the labs."

I nodded.

"So I thought of some starter things for you to count." Finnick continues tying and untying his rope. "But the rest you're going to have to think of yourself."

He suddenly gets up.

"Well, that's all I have to say. Hope you get better soon, Cat." He looks down at me, where I'm still staring at the notebook with wide eyes as if I've never saw one before.

He's about to walk out the door when I crash into him, giving him a hug.

"Thank you, Finnick." I whisper. "Thank you so much. You have no idea."

He hugs me back, and it's the best feeling in the world – support. Love. Care. Friendship.

We part, and I see a familiar twinkle in his eyes. It's better than any smile or grin, and I'm happy to see it again.

"See you later, Cheshire."

He walks out the door and I ransack the room, looking for a pen. I finally find one that the nurse left behind.

I walk out the door and begin my long expedition.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

* * *

><p>Hopefully you guys all enjoyed it!<p>

Thanks again for reading, and for sticking around (hopefully).

Since it's late now, I won't post another chapter... but I will tomorrow. For real.

I'd just like to thank you all for the reviews I've gotten so far - they've really been really helpful and I appreciate each and every single one of you who did for taking the time out to write it.

Any questions on how long my next disappearance will be? (hopefully there won't be one).

Any comments on how I'm a lazy pig and you hate me for not posting more frequently? (trust me, I don't mind at all. I think I fully deserve it.)

And feedback on how these chapters SUCK and I'm a fail author along with a terrible promise-keeper? (I know, I know, SORRY SORRY!)

Until next time!


	10. Nightmares

As promised, here's the next chapter!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p>I'm counting. No longer counting the ways he could be hurting, but counting something else.<p>

Numbers cloud my head. The best thing about counting is that you can stop and start over. You can pause and rewind. You always know what's coming next.

Sometimes it takes me a long time to count some things, like the number of lights in District 13. I often get lost and have to recount again. After getting lost at least five times, I finally memorized the place.

Sometimes it takes me less than five minutes to count some things, like the number of steps there are in mixing a chemical or something.

But no matter what it is, whether it takes me one day or one minute to count it, I write it down in the notebook Finnick gave me. The pages are all neat and ordered, the question printed neatly with the answer underneath. The notebook slowly fills up.

I spend the day reviewing the numbers in my head – always starting at one. Always starting back to the beginning again. Looking for new things to count. Over and over again. Repeat it again and again.

Sometimes I bump into other victors, all of which don't look any better than I do – except for Beetee. I talk a little to Haymitch about the rebellion and their plans. I listen to Katniss when she speaks. I help Beetee in his office with anything he needs help with. I talk to Finnick all the time.

I started eating again. I started sleeping again. Things almost seemed normal.

Except for the dreams.

I'd always get nightmares. Nightmares of being in the prison cell but not being able to help. Nightmare of watching him in pain.

But worst of all, nightmares of memories I wished I could forget.

"_You're beautiful, Hannah. _ _Don't be insecure about your looks. I think you're the most gorgeous person on earth." The boy said, smiling sweetly at the girl._

_The girl only lowered her head further. Teardrops were falling faster._

_The boy gently lifted the girl's head up, holding it steady. _

"_I love everything about you. I love the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. I love the way your nose scrunches up when you're angry. I love the way your eyebrows knit together when you're concentrating." The boy whispered._

"_Really?" The girl trembled. _

"_Really." The boy smiled reassuringly at her. _

_The boy held the girl into a tight embrace, his arms going around her protectively. He continued whispering into the girl's ear._

"_I love the way you blush when you're embarrassed. I love the way you bite your lips when you're nervous."_

_The girl laughed softly._

"_I love the way your eyes sparkle when you're delighted. I love the way you stick out your tongue when you're writing." The boy said tenderly._

"_Please don't forget Hannah. You're beautiful. Every expression, every emotion you show on your face is beautiful. Every little thing about you lights up my whole world." He stared straight into the girl's eyes. "I feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Every little thing about you I can see. Every expression feels like its mine." _

"_I love you, Hannah."_

I'd wake up, sweating and crying. I wished I could forget. I wished I could just delete those memories and make things a million times easier for me.

But at the same time, I didn't want to let go of them.

The dreams seemed so clear, so sharp. I could see every detail. It's like he's there. Like he's real.

I don't know which one is worse – the nightmares in the prison or the nightmares of my memories.

* * *

><p>So. Hope you guys all liked it! It's a lot shorter than usual (sorry, sorry) and they probably will get longer.<p>

I guess I'm going to try posting a chapter every few days or so, but definitely one chapter per week at least. That'll be my goal.

Seriously. I really intend to keep this going because it's really bugging me how this story took so long to finish.

I would really just like to give a big THANK YOU to all who have reviewed so far! I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback, and just thank you so much.

Any comments, feedback, questions? Feel free to review!

Thanks for reading!


End file.
